A Thousand Dreams Ago, I Met You
by theorangedevice
Summary: His heart wasn't made of iron. It was made of glass. And it was breaking.


_Written for C/P's The Worst Contest, and it's so bad, I didn't even write it in a word doc, I just started typing on the ffn's document page. 0% editing. 0% planning. 0% thought._

 _1000% feelz._

* * *

 **A Thousand Dreams Ago, I Met You**

The world was crumbling around him. Literally, the whole world was shaking like a can of soda that someone shook up and opened and started fizzing everywhere. Rocks were falling all around him and the ground was shaking enormously. And if that weren't bad enough, it wasn't even _his world_. That's right, Tony Stark, the Iron Man, the most famous Avenger, the defender of Earth, billionaire playboy with attitude who didn't care about nothing or anything or even anybody at all, was in space. Another planet. _Thanos'_ planet. You know, the guy who wanted kill HALF of the universe? Things were pretty bad. In fact, things had NEVER been this bad before. Not even when he was fighting aliens in New York or when Pepper dumped him. Not even when he was fighting with his best friend in the whole world, Steve Rogers.

But you know what? He didn't even care.

He didn't even care that the whole planet – Thanos' planet, not earth – was convulsing and granulating beneath his very feet, clad in his iron man shoes that had a state of the art propulsion system that could fly him out of there like snap.

But Tony wasn't going anywhere. Why?

Because everyone was WRONG about him. He wasn't just some billionaire playboy who didn't care, and the only reason he didn't care about himself was because he cared too much.

His heart wasn't made of iron.

It was made of _glass_.

And it was breaking.

 _Breaking_.

For _him_.

"Mr. Stark? I don't feels so good."

* * *

Here's what happened:

Tony Stark, the smartest man on Earth, if he does say so himself, was scanning YouTube one afternoon in search of something amusing (I mean, even billionaire playboys have to be entertained once in awhile), when he came across a trending video of some arachnid-themed superhero stopping stopping a car from ramming into a bus filled with civilians, and probably Stan Lee (because why not? This is Marvel, after all).

Tony Stark, the iron man with an iron heart, watched the video on repeat for three hours. Then he swallowed once, blinked twice, rubbed his eyes, and stared out he window.

His knew his life would never be the same.

* * *

 _I promise..._

He'll never forget his eyes.

They were dark. But not too dark. Like coffee with just a hint of cream. A russet potato dabbed in bright yellow butter, shining like the sun and the promise of a sparkling future. They were round and clear, like crystal balls, two orbs that showed Tony everything about himself, both the things he already knew, the things he didn't, and the things he didn't want to know at all. They were beautiful and calm, like a placid lake tucked away into a high mountain where only those brave enough to brave the peaks could catch a glimpse of their splendor, bathe in their beauty and magnificence, and Tony was lucky enough to be one of them.

 _I promise I'll..._

But now those eyes will just be a memory. Something that someone _remembers_ instead of actually _sees_. And the one thing he'll never forget about those eyes, besides their rich color and the spark of possibility, is how young they were.

 _I promise I'll do..._

Too young.

 _...better._

Peter did his best. And that was more than enough.

It always was.

"I promise I'll do better too, kid."

* * *

Here's what should of happened:

They should have wrenched the gauntlet off of Thanos. They should have crushed the monster and all his hopes of destroying half of what everyone loved about the universe. They should have smiled and laughed and done a few honorary victory laps, maybe a high five or two, and then blasted earth-ward and gloated about it on national television.

Here's what really happened.

"Mr. Stark? I don't feel so good."

* * *

He died in his arms.

The stupid kid had to be a hero, didn't he? He had to have the heart of a hero, the courage of a lion, the bravery of an Avenger. He had to be all the things that Tony wished he could be, fling himself out into space.

And then he had to die.

 _Why couldn't it be me?_ It was the only thought it Tony's head as Peter laid in his arms and simply _faded_. The thought revolved around and around like a carousel in his head, looping on an infinite loop for eternity, lasting longer than the infinity stones themselves, until another thought rose up and threw the first thought out of his head, a more awful thought than ever before.

 _It should have been me._

"NOOOOOOO!" his mind screamed, blood curdingly. "NOOOO!" he never realized before how much Peter meant to him. He was more than just a protege or a friend. He was so much more than that. So much more. Much more.

A son.

A single tear gathered on Tony's eyelashes. The little droplets formed together into one large, sparkling tear that settled into the corner of his eyes, then grew bigger and bigger until it slid down his cheek, off his chin, and splashed onto Peter's face.

He was like a son. Why had he never realized that before? Tony never wanted to be a father before.

But he was one, all along.

"I don't feel so good, Mr. Stark."

"Stay with me, kid. Don't you leave me too!"

But Peter was already fading, crumbling away like sand poured through someone's hand. He was like a cloud that is really full and white and puffy one moment, and the next moment it's dissolved into the sky again.

He dissolved in Tony's arms, and Tony knew what it was to lose a child.

To lose a part of himself.

To lose his heart.

Because his heart wasn't made of iron.

It never was.

"I don't feel so good either."


End file.
